Hungering Teeth.

Prologue.

Agnus stood at the edge of the fields, the early morning mist clinging to the earth like a shroud. The sun had yet to rise, leaving the world in a twilight hush, where shadows stretched long and deep across the land. The scent of dew-drenched grass filled his lungs as he breathed in the quiet, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders like an invisible burden.

He closed his eyes, feeling the rough, weathered wood of the rosary in his hands. The beads were smooth, worn from years of fervent prayer, each one a marker of his silent pleas, his whispered hopes. Lately, the prayers had felt hollow, like echoes in an empty church. The words came out as they always had, but their meaning seemed to slip away, carried off by the wind before they could reach the heavens.

His parents' faces flashed in his mind—his mother's gentle smile, his father's strong, steady gaze. They had been his anchors, his guideposts in this vast, uncertain world. They were taken by an illness that swept through like a thief in the night, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. Agnus had prayed for their recovery, had knelt in the cold, darkened church until his knees ached, his hands clasped so tightly around the rosary that they bled. But the answers never came.

He opened his eyes, staring out at the fields that had been his home for as long as he could remember. The earth beneath his feet was the same, the crops that swayed in the breeze unchanged, but something within him had shifted. A seed of doubt had taken root, growing slowly but steadily, despite his efforts to crush it. What good was faith if it couldn't save the ones you loved?

Agnus sighed, tucking the rosary into his pocket. The day would begin soon enough, with all its demands and duties. The fragile moment between night and day allowed him to feel the weight of his sorrow and the ache of his questions. And somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, a voice whispered—soft, insistent, and impossible to ignore.

"Sometimes, the answers lie not in the light, but in the shadows."

The words sent a shiver down his spine, and he turned, half-expecting to see someone standing behind him. There was nothing, just empty fields stretching out towards the horizon where the first light of dawn began to appear.

Agnus shook his head, trying to dismiss the unease that curled in his stomach. It was nothing, just a trick of the mind, a fragment of his grief. Still, as he walked back towards the house, the voice lingered, a dark thread weaving through his thoughts.

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